A Man Cannot Make Him

Still It Cried ‘sleep No More!’ To All The House: ‘glamis Hath Murder’d Sleep, And Therefore Cawdor Shall Sleep No More,—macbeth Shall Sleep No More!

Sir Andrew Ague-cheek: I'll Stay A Month Longer. I Am A Fellow O' The Strangest Mind I' The World; I Delight In Masques And Revels Sometimes Altogether (he's An Oddity In That He Enjoys Having Fun)

The Rose Looks Fair, But Fairer We It Deem For That Sweet Odour Which Doth In It Live.

Time, That Takes Survey Of All The World, Must Have A Stop.

Presume Not That I Am The Thing I Was.